The Accidental sorcerer

'Of course you aren't,' Reg muttered. 'You just don't pay your bills.' 'RegV

The princess stood. 'And now I'll show you to your apartment.'

'You don't need to do that, Your Highness,' he said, scrambling to his feet. 'Surely there's a servant who can direct us? I don't want to hold you up — '

'Too late,' she said. 'Besides. Your suite is on the way to the guest quarters for the Kallarapi delegation and I still have to tell them about their audience with the king. Come on…' She squeezed out from behind her desk and crossed to the office door with a finger snap at Boris. Grinning, the cat leapt lightly from its bookcase perch and joined her at the door. 'I don't have all day'

'Of course not, Your Highness,' said Gerald. He shoved his employment terms into his pocket, picked up his carpet-bag, waited for Reg to hop onto his shoulder, then followed the princess out of the cluttered room. 'And here we have Ancestors'Walk,' she said as they turned yet another corner to be confronted by a long, wide, high-ceilinged corridor whose walls were covered with slightly tatty flocked wallpaper and crowded with ornately framed portraits. 'Or, as I prefer to call it, the Rogues' Gallery. All the kings and princess consorts since New Ottosland was settled.'

'It's very impressive,' he said, slowing his pace to examine the faces.

She spared him a wry glance, for once matching his speed.'Oppressive, you mean.' 'And which ones are your parents?'

The princess pulled a face. 'Oh… well, actually, they're the only ones not here. Lional didn't get along with them so he refuses to hang their portraits. I'm hoping to sneak them in when I can be sure he won't notice.'

'Oh,' he said, and thought of the casual camaraderie and genuine affection he shared with his own parents.'I'm sorry to hear that.'

She shrugged. 'Don't be. I can't say I was overfond of them myself. Well, of my father. I sometimes think he'd have taken more interest in us if we'd had petals and stamens instead of arms and legs. As for my mother, I never really knew her. She died when I was very small.'

'What did I say?' Reg whispered in his ear. 'Practically motherless. I can always tell. Before you know it she'll be thanking me for my excellent grooming advice, just you wait.'

Reg's buzzing tickled; Gerald rubbed his ear and said, 'I really am sorry to hear that, Your Highness.'

'Goodness,' the princess said briskly. 'Don't waste your sympathy on me, Professor. One quickly learns not to pine after the unattainable.' She picked up her pace again.'Shall we get on?'

'You certainly have a lot of ancestors, Your Highness,' he said, as the array of portraits continued. 'Do you remember all their names?'

'Of course. On the left we have the Lionals and on the right, the Melissandes.' 'I beg your pardon?'

She pulled a face. 'Welcome to New Ottosland, Professor. A kingdom of Tradition.' He considered her. 'You said that with a capital T'

'I did, didn't I?' She came to an abrupt halt, halting him, and looked him square in the eye.'Do yourself a favour, Professor, and don't ever forget it. Lional's doing his best to modernise us but I'm sorry to say it's an uphill battle. Here in New Ottosland we live and die by Tradition. You might think the horse-and-carnage look is quaint but trust me, it palls very quickly. However, since horses and carriages are what they had in colonial times that's what we still have today. No cars allowed. For the same stupid reason we don't have electricity, mass public transport, a stock exchange or any number of other modern conveniences which I'm sure you've taken for granted your whole life. Here in traditional New Ottosland we have candles and gaslight and an erratic hot-air balloon service, at least when the Kallarapi let us, and carriage post and exorbitantly expensive horseback couriers.'

'What about your telephone? That's modern, isn't it?'

'The only reason we've got telephones is because I argued myself practically into asphyxiation to get them after there was an incident at the Mint, and only then in the palace and public institutions. That, Professor, is the sole concession to modernity you'll find around here. Oh, and me not having to wear crinoline and hoops.' She shuddered. 'And if you only knew what I went through to win that argument…'

'It's one you'd have been better losing,' said Reg. 'Hoops would do wonders for your posture, my girl.'

The princess looked at him. 'Tell me it gets better.'

'Sorry,' he said, shrugging. Then he stared again at the crowded wall of portraits. 'So let me see if I've got this right. All the kings are called Lional because the very first king of New Ottosland was a Lional?'

'Exactly,' she said, pleased. 'And since his princess consort was called Melissande, all princesses, consorts or otherwise, are called Melissande.' She marched off again, adding over her shoulder, 'Whether it suits them or not.'

'Well,' he said, catching up to her, 'I suppose it prevents unpleasant arguments at naming day celebrations. What about the queens of New Ottosland, then? What are they known as?'

'They're not. Women,' said the princess in a studiously neutral tone of voice, 'are unfit to rule, by virtue of their emotional natures and the woolliness of their wits.'

'Oh,' he said. 'What an extraordinary thing to say'

'I thought so. Unfortunately, since those particularly inane words were uttered by Lional the First and tradition being what it is…'

He grinned. 'Say no more. Still. At least it means New Ottosland and Kallarap have something in common. Perhaps the king and the sultan could build on that?'

The princess spared him a withering glance. 'I'll be sure to mention it.'

'So where do you display the Rupert portraits?' he asked as they reached the end of the corridor.

'We don't. There aren't any,' she said. 'Second and third and fourth etcetera sons, and daughters for that matter, are named whatever takes their parents' fancy and they're not important enough to rate a portrait. Not unless they're bumped up the ladder of succession into the top job, in which case they automatically become the next Lional. Or Melissande. It's all very tidy.'

'Tidy,' he said. 'Yes. I suppose that's one word for it. I could possibly think of one more.'

'Just one?' said Princess Melissande. 'Live here as long as I have, Professor, and trust me: you'll expand your vocabulary. Now let's get a move on, shall we? All this talk of tradition gives me hives.'

The walk to his living quarters was slowed considerably by constant interruptions, as various palace staff members popped out of offices and adjacent corridors to stop the princess with requests for advice and decisions. She seemed to know everyone by name, and dealt with their problems efficiently and with a smile. They in turn were respectful but relaxed, not the least bit intimidated.

'I'll say this much for her,' Reg muttered. 'She's got the common touch.'

Gerald nodded, grateful. If she'd been a female version of her kingly brother, life here wouldn't be worth living.

Eventually, despite all the interruptions, they reached an ornately carved set of double doors. 'Your suite,' the princess announced, stopping. 'I won't bother giving you a key since I expect you'll want to put in place your own wards or passwords or whatever it is you wizards use for locks. Your luggage should have been delivered by now. If it hasn't just pull on any one of the bell ropes and someone will attend you. Likewise if you have any questions, although I have prepared a handy little "Guide to New Ottosland" you'll doubtless find helpful. Now I'll bid you good afternoon. Ordinarily I'd see you inside and give you a tour but I really must go and soothe the Kallarapi before they implode.'

'Yes, of course, Your Highness. Don't let me hold you up,' he said to her departing rear view. 'Although — ' She turned back.'Yes?'

'I was just wondering… what time is it, exactly? I don't seem to have worked out the difference yet.'

'A quarter to two,' she said, after consulting a dented old pocket watch. 'Past lunchtime. Which reminds me. Your predecessors usually ate meals in their suite unless they were summoned to sup with the king. If you don't hear from him just tell the kitchens what you want whenever you're feeling peckish.'